


Daddy issues

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alcohol, Daddy Issues, Drug Use, Love Bites, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Prowl, in the midst of searching for who killed his father, works at a high end nightclub. One of his frequent clients comes to pay him a visit.
Relationships: Lockdown/Prowl
Kudos: 23





	Daddy issues

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fanfic written for Pastelpaperplane's au on her tumblr. She waited WAY too long for this, and I appreciate her patience! link down below to her tumblr, visual resources, and anything you need to know about her delightful au. Hope you enjoy!

Prowl sighed under his veil, slowly stepping off the stage. He had been working an extra shift that night, hearing that a certain someone would appear. Someone who had information he desperately needed. Unfortunately, they seemed to skip on him. While it was disappointing, at least he got just a little more money in his pocket for the upcoming week. Hell, maybe he'll indulge himself, order some high quality Ta'meya, and relax. Relaxation was usually the furthest thing on his mind, but stretch a tree too far, and its branch will snap.

Prowl halted on his way into the backroom. He stood there for a moment, in the darkness that hid himself from the previously raving crowd. He recalled just when Yoketron gave him such wisdom. There wasn't a day where Prowl didn't sit there and recite his late father's wisdoms. He shook his helm. Dwelling in the past blinded you to the future. What Prowl needed to do right now, was recuperate, and get back to his search. He had been working overtime all this week, he was exhausted. He forced himself to go on into the back room, feeling far more relaxed in the glow of all the vanity lights. Knockout was there, happily accepting a drink from their little bartender. He took a sip of his beverage, before taking notice to Prowl. He set his cocktail down, and motioned for Prowl to come forward.

"Come on, over here! You look battered, poor boy."

Bumblebee seemed to express equal concern as Prowl sat down at the nearest vanity (it was Optimus's. The dancers were close enough to be family however, so they didn't have issues sharing).

"Yeah. For someone who's rockin' out with their tits out, you look like shit."

He seemed confused as to why Knockout smacked him on his shoulder.

"Don't be rude. Make yourself useful, serve some drinks. Prowl?"

"No thank you. I'm walking home tonight, I'd like a clear head."

"Oh you're no fun. Alright, go serve the alcoholics at front."

"You know, a 'please' never hurts. "

"Please, go fuck yourself."

"...close enough."

Bumblebee took the hint, and his tray before leaving. Knockout placed a hand on Prowl’s shoulder, ever concerned. Knockout was as vain and venomous as they came, but aside from Strika, he was more or less a mother hen to all the performers.

"Pushing yourself this week, haven't we? Long shifts every night. Whatever for?"

Prowl, much like Knockout, wasn't one to air all of his dirty laundry. He never told anyone why he chose to work here, and no one pried further. He lightly rubbed at his temples, sighing.

"I just...needed the extra cash this week. Middle of summer and the AC in my unit is broken."

It was half true. His AC was broken, but he had already paid to get someone to look over it the next morning. In his line of work, too much information was deadly. You merely needed to look pretty, make the guest feel special, and clock out. Prowl wasn't sure if Knockout believed him, but at least it was enough to sate him.

"Oh I see what you mean. Me and my roommate are just awful in the heat, I had the very same problem last week. But hey, at least your shift is all done."

"True. I can't wait to just go to bed, honestly. I got a pillow waiting up for me."

Knockout waved his hand as he laughed.

"Oh, that's a new one, I like that. Regardless, stop by the bar before you go, pick yourself up something to nibble on."

The dancers technically paid out of pocket for bar food and drink, unless they got it paid by a client. Or if they got caught. Prowl nodded as he pulled out his cotton pad, putting on the astringent. He needed to take this glitter off his face. At least, he could try, he learned the hard way that glitter was a struggle. He nodded as the makeup started to wipe away.

"Will do. Though I've been planning on getting some Ta'meya, there's a street cart by-"

"Prowl."

They both turned to look at Strika, who poked her helm through the door. Strika was the only lady who was allowed back there (according to her), for the safety of the dancers.

"You left already?"

"Planning on it. Why?"

"You have a client wanting to see you. He requested a personal session."

Strika was technically breaking the rules with what she was doing. Strika was giving him a warning, in case he wanted to act as if he had already left. This was against the rules, because personal sessions weren't optional. Might have to do with the fact that clients could pay a minimum of three hundred dollars for one, and that was just the base fee. However, no amount of cash could convince Strika to force her dancers. Prowl looked at the makeup on his cotton pad, sighing.

"Who is it?"

"You have to ask?"

He knew exactly who she meant. He sighed.

"Give me twenty minutes to touch up, I'll be ready."

With his half of the money, Prowl could afford to take the next night off. Strika gave a nod, before shutting the door. Knockout pulled out his makeup kit.

"Please, let me help. I'll turn twenty minutes of effort into five, no problem."

Prowl was exhausted, but he appreciated the help that he DID get that night.

\--------------------------

Lockdown stood there at the doorway, scoping out the scene. He had a long day of...work under his belt, and he was pent up. He needed someone to help him be rid of all that tension, but he was afraid he might've been too late. His gaze went to Strika as she walked back to him. Most bouncers wouldn't leave the front door open to a deadly looking client like himself, but they had a mutual respect for one another. Strika respected his work, and he respected the fact that she could crush his head like a walnut if she wanted to.

"He's still here. You know our policy."

"Right right, payment upfront, cash. You get down to business, don't you?"

"Just trying to vork. Have date night vith husband, don't vant to take longer than necessary."

"Oh that's just peachy,"

He stated, pulling out the bills from his coat pocket.

"What'd you guys have planned? Dinner?"

"Da. After ve spar. Loser pays for everything."

"You two fucking has gotta be...somethin'"

He muttered that part under his breath as he handed Strika the bills. She counted it in front of him, and after reaching the correct total, stuffed it into her bra. She motioned for him to follow. She took him to one of the more private rooms, and motioned for him to have a seat. The room was big enough for two, covered in velvet furniture, and a small table for a bottle to comfortably sit in its ice bath. It was a cozy little place, and Lockdown had grown accustomed to the heavy, sweet smell in the room. He hadn't gotten his drinks in yet, and he already felt mildly intoxicated. He sat his ass down, and Strika put her hands over her chest. That woman wore her brass knuckles like a rich woman wore jewelry; loud and proud.

"You remember other rule?"

"Yeah yeah, if I hurt 'em you hurt me, I gotta pay extra for messes on the furniture, yadda yadda. Come on Strika, you're being a lot to a mech who works as hard as I do."

"...He'll be here in tventy."

Strika parted the curtain and left. Lockdown looked around the room, sighing as he relaxed on the sofa. It was quiet, with just a light background noise from the stage in the other room. It was secluded, without being uncomfortable. With his free hand, he picked up the bottle, and uncorked it, taking a good swig. Sure these bottles were expensive as hell, but they were rich, and they were heavy. Lockdown planned on getting fucked up, regardless of how he got there. He shut his eyes, laying his head back as he waited. 

"Are you dead?"

His head went up as he heard the voice. There he was, his expensive little toy. He gave him a look over, and lightly whistled.

"Well, ain't you lookin' special for me."

"I really wished my assumption was right."

Lockdown chuckled, patting his knee.

"Come on, sooner you do your job, sooner I'll let you go."

Prowl lightly shook his helm, before walking up to Lockdown, sitting on his lap. Private sessions differed between clients and dancers. Most danced for their client's entertainment, showing quite a bit of skin, flirt, getting them to pay exorbitant amounts for liquor, and that was it. Lockdown and Prowl...had a special exception. Lockdown trailed his hand up Prowl’s front, smirking as Prowl pushed into his touch. Lockdown had been a client here for a while, but Prowl was definitely his favorite. Lockdown lifted his hook hand up to his veil, so tempted to just tear it off. But physical moves didn't get under that skin. It was all in the lips.

"Don't get me wrong, this is a pretty little accessory, but I want it off. I paid extra, the least I could get is that face."

Truth be told, Prowl would rather take everything else off. However, he knew he had to choose his battles with someone like Lockdown. He undid his veil, and wrapped the fabric around his hand. He lifted his hand up to his chin, slowly running his fingers down that jawline.

"There we go...god, I'll never understand how a pretty thing like you, ended up in a place like this."

"I'll never understand how you ended up being so full of yourself."

Lockdown ran his thumb over the other's bottom lip, letting the softness comfort his gloved thumb.

"You're a smart thing, aren't you? Think you're smart enough to light me up a smoke?"

Prowl hesitated. He HATED when Lockdown smoked. Not because he hated the smell of smoke (he did at the start of his job, but it was par for the course at this point), but because Lockdown didn't smoke the cheap stuff when he was here. He smoked the rather pricey, smooth, rich cigars, which smell was very inciting. Lockdown wasn't some millionaire, but when he wanted to 'get fucked up', he wasn't a cheap aft. Prowl dug into his left pocket, only to find it empty.

"It's empty."

"Oh shoot, must've put it elsewhere. Keep looking, won't you Prowler?"

Prowl sighed. Lockdown always did toy with him like this, and he always found some way to get under his skin. Prowl’s hand roamed across his chest, to his right pocket. Nothing.

"Swear to god if it's in your pants."

"That'd be hilarious, but no, I promise it's not there. It IS lower, if you want a hint."

Prowl’s hand glided down his side, down to his thigh. He felt his pants pocket, and found the square bulge. He pulled out the box, and held out one of his cigars, letting Lockdown's mouth accept it. He reached for the lighter on the table next to them (in these private rooms, lighters, smokes, and booze were as plentiful as sin itself), and lit it up for him. Once he took an inhale, he shut the case, slipped it in his left pocket, and firmly patted it.

"Try not to move it next time."

"Ah come on, if you're gonna get involved with a client, you might as well just add a lil' sugar."

"I'm not here to get involved with ANYONE. I'm here to do my job."

Prowl handed Lockdown the bottle he motioned for, allowing him to quickly chug the rest of it down. He sighed as the bottle ran dry, and he chucked it to the side. Lockdown needed that much booze for those particular set of words. 'I'm not here to get involved with anyone'. If only he was kind and honest enough to tell him just how involved with Lockdown he really was. He took a deep inhale, and exhaled right into that pretty face.

"You ARE involved with me, gorgeous. If you weren't, explain why you let me do things that other clients can't."

“What do you mean?”

He asked, swatting at the smoke that had flooded his face. Prowl was so proud, so prudish. He was a lot like his daddy Yoketron. Lockdown knew damn well he liked the smell of these cigars, and he was merely acting the part. As if this was their first rodeo. 

“Little things. Like this.”

Lockdown leaned up, and latched his lips right up against his neck. Prowl would have pushed him away, would have just sent Strika on his ass. Had Lockdown not hit just that perfect spot. Lockdown chuckled as he felt Prowl’s fingers dig into his thighs. Even through the thick material, Prowl's grip was strong. 

“See? One way or another, you’re involved with me, baby.”

Prowl, somehow, managed to give him a small push, enough for Lockdown to notice. He looked up at the embarrassed, flushed, angry features.

"You're going to leave marks for EVERYONE to see-"

"Is that your only issue, gorgeous?"

Lockdown pulled the front of his attire down, revealing the alluring body underneath. Suffice to say, he liked what he saw. Before Prowl could try to stop him again, Lockdown lowered himself, starting to graze his teeth against the clearly sensitive skin. Prowl wasn't some meek little virgin, but damn he responded like he'd never gotten fucked before. He stopped briefly to take another inhale, before softly biting against the skin. From the way Prowl’s breath hitched, he could tell he liked exactly what he was doing. 

"Don't worry, you can cover all these up."

Prowl offered little to no resistance as Lockdown toyed with him, leaving a wake of hickies from his chest, down to his lower stomach. He looked up from his spot on the other's waistline, snickering. Prowl was such a puritan, he was ashamed to admit he liked being marked up. He wiped the drool from his lip, and sat back, taking a puff as he admired his work. Dark, wet spots littered all over that once pure skin. Prowl looked at him with disdain. At least, he tried to amidst his clear arousal.

"Are you happy now?"

"Not quite. And I can tell you ain't either, long legs."

Lockdown pushed his knee against the other’s crotch, watching him tremble. Prowl had been hard for a while, but now he was going so far as to leak all over his poor pants (he didn't care honestly, plenty of fluids stained these clothes). Lockdown took a deep inhale, before flicking the butt away.

"You're disgusting."

"And YOU'RE horny. Let's quit the dancing, Prowl, strip."

Prowl wanted to hesitate, and he could've said no, but unfortunately Lockdown was right. He was involved in his life, and no amount of self discipline can stop that. Prowl stood up, and removed his under clothes, keeping them to the side. Lockdown always did appreciate how Prowl would move, even in something as simple as taking off some clothes was a dance. Lockdown gave a small whistle, like one would do for a dog, and motioned for him to come closer. Prowl rolled his optics, but obeyed. He was going to comment on the ‘command’, when Lockdown pressed his lips against his again, flooding his mouth with the taste of booze and smoke. Prowl didn't want to enjoy the flavor, didn't want to enjoy Lockdown’s now exposed spike rubbing up against his valve. Lockdown pulled away, a smirk that revealed his stained teeth.

“I like it when you flounder for a while, long legs.”

He held onto Prowl’s hip, before pushing his spike past his valve lips, hissing as the warmth enveloped him. Lockdown didn't even need to give him further instructions, as Prowl immediately started to push his hips against his own. It was slow, careful. At least, for the first two thrusts. Prowl had needs, just like him, and when he was able to shut his pretty lips, he allowed himself to have those needs met. Prowl wasted no time in causing a puddle to form under them, wasted no time in filling the room with wet, slick sounds. The best part about Prowl, was how honest he was. His mouth was open, panting and even giving Lockdown a little bit of drool. There were other performers Lockdown played with, but they weren't so eager, so full of that bullshit honor mentality. Just like daddy Yoketron. Lockdown suddenly snickered as a pretty fucked up idea popped into his head. Was he a terrible bot? Pretty much, but at least he wasn't boring, that was a real crime. Lockdown shoved Prowl onto his back, nearly making him gasp in surprise. That was when he swore he had some kind of flashback. Yoketron was under him, begging for mercy from death. And here he was, having his son beg for his overload. Lockdown used his hook to yank Prowl closer by his thigh (Prowl could take a little damage, trust him on this), while his other hand gripped tightly around his throat.

“You wanna wrap this up, darlin’?”

Prowl nodded, a bit too eagerly as to not wound his pride.

“Alright, I’ll give you what you want, long as you do a little somethin’ for me.”

“If it’s NOT being revolted by you, then I’m afraid I can't.”

“Funny. No, I want you to call me something.”

Prowl raised a brow, clearly suspicious. Lockdown pushed himself fully inside of Prowl, making his back arch a little. Lockdown leaned down to his audial, trying not to bust a seam.

“I want you to call me daddy.”

Prowl put his hands at the other’s shoulders, as if he was trying to push him away. He knew when Prowl wanted him off of him, but he clearly didn't want to, much as he tried to convey it. 

“That’s sickening.”

“What’s sickening, is you acting like you don't want it.”

Lockdown’s grip on his throat tightened, forcing Prowl to stiffen. Lockdown always did like all this back and forth they had, always liked the inner turmoil Prowl put himself through. Prowl whined as Lockdown’s hips started to slam against him, unable to stop vocalizing just how much he liked all of this. Lockdown snarled as he bit into his shoulder, starting to get impatient.

“Cut the shit for two seconds, Prowl. You act like we’re doin’ this in front of a crowd. You can be oh so BAD if you could just try. And I,”

Prowl exclaimed loudly as Lockdown hit against that perfect spot, feeling his body flooded with all notions of bad decisions. 

“Can be oh so GOOD to you. Now come on, spoil me a lil, and say what I wanna hear.”

It was so fucked up. The fact that he saw Yoketron in those optics. The begging for mercy, the begging for goodness. The bullshit. Prowl was going to come at him with some excuse, some sort of name to call him, but his body was nowhere near as strong as his mind.

“D-daddy.”

“Come on, you’ve been louder, sweet tits. You want an overload, you gotta work for it. Fun as a fucktoy is, you ain't getting away with being lazy on me.”

He knew Prowl liked the way he growled against his skin. He knew he liked the way he held him down. He couldn't stop himself, even if his life depended on it. 

“Daddy.”

“That’s all I get? After getting you to whimper like this?”

Prowl was so close. So close to having an overload he didn't know he needed so badly. It’s why, against every bit of pride in his body, he obliged. 

“Daddy, PLEASE!”

It was a simple exclamation. It was eager, it was lewd, and very unlike Prowl. Even the proudest could be turned into a thirsty slut, if you know how to toy with them. Lockdown gave a loud snort, before finally letting himself overload inside of Prowl, holding him in place. He doubted Prowl would've tried to push him away, but Lockdown wanted the guarantee that Prowl would be full of his fluids. There was a second where they both just laid there, panting and sticky. That was when Prowl hissed up at him.

“You could've gotten my outfit messy.”

“You did that yourself, darlin’”

Prowl looked at himself, just to realize how right Lockdown was. He hadn't even registered his own overload, that was currently soaking his outfit. Dammit. Lockdown laughed as he pushed off of him, sitting back down, and lighting another smoke. Prowl weakly sat up, and snatched the cigar from his mouth.

“I hate you.”

“You don't hate my dick.”

Lockdown chuckled as he watched Prowl take an inhale, trying to look away. Lockdown wasn't having any of that, grabbing his chin and forcing his gaze back onto him. Prowl hated when he was so up in his face, and it was just the funnest little game.

“Say whatever mean stuff ya want, sweet cheeks. Swear, you remind me of someone I knew.”

Prowl blew the smoke into the mech’s face, not even making his slag eating grin falter.

“Someone I know?”

“Doubt it darlin’”

Lockdown sneered, hand falling on his aft.

“Really doubt it.”

One thing he didn’t doubt, was that Prowl had some serious daddy issues.

**Author's Note:**

> https://pastelpaperplanes.tumblr.com/post/615683528303198208/lockdown-still-holds-his-reign-as-one-of-the-most (Lockdown's look)
> 
> https://pastelpaperplanes.tumblr.com/post/625503717259624448/pastey-what-does-prowl-look-like-in-cops-and (Prowl's look)


End file.
